


Ardeth Bay Ficlets

by valis2



Category: The Mummy (1999)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Drabble, F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-07
Updated: 2004-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:31:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valis2/pseuds/valis2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a set of drabbles and ficlets I wrote about Ardeth Bay.  These are all short, unrelated pieces and some of them are AU (Beauty and the Beast, Ardeth Bay as a gypsy, etc.).  The melodrama factor is high as these are some of the first fanfiction pieces I wrote.  The challenge was to make them fit inside of a greeting card, which is why all of these pieces are so short.  Hope you enjoy them!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ardeth Bay Ficlets

His dark eyes bored into hers as he crossed the room, coiled, magnificent as a panther, his dark hair swirling as he pulled her hard against his lean body, his hands fierce upon her, his lips claiming hers with a startling intensity, the wildness of his spirit overwhelming her. His powerful fingers brought her closer yet, imprisoning her in bronze, her heart surging, the rasp of his sudden hot breath against her cheek when he pulled back, his mahogany eyes desiring her with dark fire. She fought the urge to break free—he could see it in her eyes---his mouth found hers again and her will melted away in the heat of his lust.

* * *

His dark eyes smoldered as he watched her dancing across the tent. Unaware of his presence, she moved with abandon, her delicate hands looping and circling like twin constellations. Her eyes were closed to the press of the physical world; her blonde hair swirled like spun gold in the lamplight. She danced to the feel of the music, each throb of the drum connected to her heart's rhythm. Mesmerized, he crossed the tent, reaching out with one bare hand to clasp her wrist, breaking her trance. Her shockingly jade eyes connected with his, surprised. His own blazed like dark twin stars, ferocious in their desire, demanding not only her flesh but her very soul. His free hand entwined itself in her hair, drawing her closer until she was crushed against the length and breadth of his hard body, his black mane silken against her face. She could feel the tension in his frame, his insatiable need, and it fueled her own quickening heat. Drawing back slightly, his eyes shimmered like the noon sands.

"I must have you," he said raggedly, his bare teeth shockingly white against his lips. His mouth took hers fiercely, urgently, capturing her and subordinating her to his blossoming lust. She could feel his hand trembling in her hair, his lean, muscular form like a tangible inferno against her own, his raw, scalding kiss branding her forever.

* * *

"By Allah, you vex me!" he thundered, striking the table with enough force to make her wince involuntarily. His dark eyes blazed. The muscles in his bare arms were taut with suppressed anger. "I will listen no longer to these demands. They have seen Hamunaptra, and they must die."

She forced herself to remain calm, winding her fingers together tightly. "They are only diggers---they are innocent. You cannot mean to---to slaughter them---"

He crossed the room in two fierce steps, suddenly unbearably close. She was suddenly aware of the scent of leather and desert that clung to him. "What are their lives, compared to the curse on this place? It has always been our task---"

"To trade the lives of innocents---for a superstition?" she interrupted, clenching her fingers tighter.

His eyes narrowed in fury. He bared white teeth in a snarl. She could feel the white hot heat radiating from his body. "I assure you that it is more than---superstition," he said, biting each word off savagely. "I have seen the Creature walk among men. I have seen the Plagues with my own eyes. I will never allow this to happen again."

His eyes burned, and she blanched involuntarily. She could see plainly enough that he told the truth, and she was horribly frightened---he had seen this, really he had. "It's not possible---" she breathed, holding her hands up, frightened by him, frightened by his dark rage.

He took one step closer, crossing the scant space that remained between them, grabbing her wrists in his iron grip. She could feel his warm breath against her; the black halo of his wild hair was ominous. "The power that sentenced him came from the hands of my ancestors," he said, his rich voice deceptively soft. "We must live forever with their actions." His long fingers tightened their hold, and the intensity in his eyes scared her.

"You---you must let us go," she gasped. "They---they have no idea what they're digging---they don't even know that it's Hamunaptra---" She stared at him in wild panic.

He was silent for a moment, his grip lessening. "Then they shall be let away from here," he murmured. "But you will stay, and you will never be allowed to leave."

She could only stand in utter incredulity as he suddenly kissed her, his dark passion feral and overpowering, his powerful arms around her waist, pulling her against his long, lean body. She could not reply, consumed by the raw, animal need that rose within her, responding to his wild desire.

* * *

The sands shimmered before her. She wished to cry, to weep, but who in this deserted land would care? Who would not chide her for such a waste of the precious life that Allah provided? She was lost, forsaken, driven deep into the scorched sands. Her heart ached, and she grieved for the loss of her family, her innocence, her life as she had known it.

The blazing sun, the fierce Eye of Allah, the golden reminder of her exile and imminent doom. Slowly, cruelly, she was burning to death under its pressure. She could not remember when she had last drank water. She knew, with the infallible sense of a native Bedouin, that she was very close to the end. If she did not find an oasis soon---she pulled her kuffiyah higher to black out more of the dazzling light. At the height of her thirst every next dune had sported mirages of greenery, the all-important sign of life; now the visions had ceased. Her thirst had lessened as well as her strength. She felt detached from the pitiful shape atop her camel. She seemed to be floating away, coolness enveloping her, the suffocating heat sliding away.

Slowly, gradually, she opened her eyes. The sky spread out in front of her, the blues dark and mysterious, the evening star faintly visible, the brilliant reds and oranges heralding nightfall. She lay there, still, feeling the arrival of twilight, deliciously indolent.

Suddenly her flight from the camp, the cruel journey, the days of parched and painful travel returned, and her heart spasmed in fear. She had lost the camel---by Allah, she was lost! To be without a mount in the deep desert---she was doomed, truly, finally, doomed. She struggled to sit up---she could walk---it was not so cold yet---

She felt the pressure of an unfamiliar hand upon her, pushing her back, and she almost leapt out of her skin.

"No---do not be alarmed," came a voice, rich soothing. "I mean you no harm."

"Who---" She turned her head to the side, and the last stray beams of sunlight illuminated a man's face, unveiled. She sat still in shock. Black hair like the night sky framed an elegant, sharply defined face. A neatly trimmed goatee surrounded claret lips. His dark fathomless eyes pierced her, frightening her. "Who are you?"

"I am Ardeth." He paused, looking at her intently. "You are Tuema."

"My uncle---my uncle sent you!" she gasped, trying to crawl away.

"No---no!" he said in such a vehement tone that she stopped to stare at him. "I have been waiting---waiting for you, for many years."

"That is impossible!"

"With Allah, everything is possible." He lifted her up gently, pulling her into his arms, the heat of his body suddenly unbearably close. "I have dreamt of you for many nights. Allah revealed to me where I would find you in your moment of need."

She wanted to push him away---she knew she must. Yet she could not. The warmth of him---the strong fingers that held her arms---his face so intoxicatingly close. "I---I do not understand."

"There is no understanding. There is only accepting." His hand gently brushed her cheek, winding itself into her hair as he brought her closer, kissing her, delicately tasting her lips. She felt so warm, so protected; suddenly she knew that he would protect her, love her---that he had loved her already so long. She returned the kiss with a passion that surprised her. The heavens filled with stars. The moon that rose blessed them a thousand times as she lay that night, safe in his embrace, her heart burning anew.

* * *

"I know that this is difficult for you," he murmured, leaning towards her.

She caught the light scent of sandalwood. "It is Allah's will."

"Yes---but to marry a complete stranger…" He caught her gaze with his own, and she found herself lost in his rich, mahogany eyes. "You will find me---understanding. I will not force myself upon you." His hand was warm on her arm.

"I am not displeased with Allah's will," she said, hoping that her eyes were expressing her pleasure.

His smile was slow, but breathtaking. "Nor am I." He pulled her closer, enfolding her in his dusty black robes. "Allah is merciful."

She sought out his mouth with her own, hungrily kissing him, finding him suddenly tensed with emotion, returning her kiss with an intensity that shocked her. His arms pulled her tightly against him, his long fingers taut against her flesh. She sighed softly and laid her head on his shoulder, utterly content.

* * *

She assumed that she was alone in the darkened room until a shadow detached itself and coalesced into Ardeth's lean form. "What are you doing here?" she gasped. Even in the poor light his bronze skin gleamed. His eyes glittered.

"I could not wait for you," he said brusquely. "I have given you more than enough time. My patience has run through." He began to circle her, stripped to the waist, his black hair hanging loose and wild. He seemed a dangerous beast, some feral panther, uncaged, frightening her.

"But you said---"

He gestured curtly. "I know what I said. But it is impossible."

She took a step backwards, and suddenly he lunged, catching her and dragging her. She realized that he was pulling her towards the bed and renewed her struggles, desperately fighting him. He did not seem to notice, his grip like iron, inexorably forcing her down onto the silk sheets. His mouth claimed hers like a ravenous beast. His fingers dug into her flesh, pulling her closer to him, his hot body molten against her.

* * *

He held her hand in his own, one dark eyebrow arched, his magnificent eyes fixated on her. She knew she should be saying something but her lungs did not seem to be able to draw in breath. He paused again and then brought her hand up, kissing it gently. The pressure of his warm lips, the scratch of his goatee, the subtle passion in his smallest movement ignited her desire. From the moment she had seen his lean, tall frame across the room she had felt a fierce need to possess him, to feel his heat against her own, and with him so near she was losing her composure. Her thoughts tangled and collapsed in her head. The only thing that remained was her raw want of this man, this exquisitely handsome man who watched her with dark eyes burning.

* * *

The woods were dark and mysterious, but she was not afraid. Though she had been warned countless times about the danger of being in the woods at night she continued at her indolent pace; she was in no hurry to return to her stepfather's cramped cottage. Twilight rendered the trees silver.

She paused to examine a pattern in the grass. A fairy ring, no doubt; the tiny cinnamon colored mushrooms were unmistakable. She smiled. So quaint. What was the old tale? She thought for a moment. Walk three times around, widdershins, then cross your fingers and leap in. She giggled as she circled the ring.

There was a tremendous flare of light when she jumped in, and she was thrown to the ground, dazed. Her head swam and she blinked her eyes, but to no avail. She had been blinded.

Whispers and tiny cries of alarm erupted around her. At first she could not understand them, but eventually one voice rose above the rest. "We must take her to him." She was lifted and carried away.

She was set down carefully. Her eyes were beginning to adjust, and she looked in wonder at the light green forest sprinkled with tiny silver lights. She stood up, turning around, and her breath caught in her throat.

She was in an intimate clearing, the trees close and thick. Low tables and cushions were set about haphazardly. The chairs and pillows were occupied by fairies and elves of all descriptions; most were staring openly at her. Her blood stopped in her veins.

At the far end of the clearing was an ornately carved table of pure gold, and seated at it was a man who could know no equal, if man he was. His dark eyes glimmered as he looked at her. She drank in his beauty, his fine features, his mane of pitch black hair, his lean, muscled body. "What are you doing here?" he demanded sharply, gesturing with a single bronzed hand.

"I---I---" she gasped.

He scowled. "Answer me, Human Child. You cannot deny me here---I am the Lord of the Forest, and this is the heart of my domain." He rose up and leapt over the table in a single fluid movement. He loped towards her, his every motion like that of an untamed beast. He stood before her, his dark, magnificent eyes piercing her, his crimson lips curving in a feral smile, baring white teeth. "Ah…you entered a Circle. Were you not warned?" He drew even closer, his shirtless torso gleaming, his countenance fierce. "You must know that you are now mine," he murmured, suddenly taking her into his arms and kissing her, enveloping her in his wildness, the scent of mist and lightning clinging to him.

He looked at her once more, the promise of passion in his eyes. "It has been many a year since I last loved a human woman," he growled in a rich, low voice. "I will take my time…and savor your delight."

* * *

Ardeth Bay as a Rom (Gypsy)

She snuggled deeper into the thick furs of her bed, enjoying the sounds of the owls nearby; the single set of shutters left open brought the fresh night air into her vardo. She lay utterly contented; the night's frenzied dancing had left her deliciously fatigued, and she was thoroughly pleased by the entertainment her family had found. They'd encountered another group of Costovari, tinsmiths, on the road; such joy---they were related, though far, far in the past, and decided to camp together. Such brightly painted vardos and benders! All of them in a big circle...and the khelapen! the dance! She had never before danced with such abandon. The other Costovari played feverishly, as if possessed. She would treasure this evening forever. And this atchin'tan would be blessed forever for hosting such merriment.

Another fragrant breeze moved inside her wagon, gently rustling the pots and pans hanging from hooks. A slight tinkling noise from her shawl, threaded with tiny silver coins, reminded her again of the khelapen. She lost herself anew in remembrance; the fiddlers; the drummers; the raklies---the young women, excused from their chores; the bonfires; and the pair of gleaming eyes that seemed to burn her as they watched. That the son of the leader of these Costovari had been entranced by her---it had only added to her enjoyment of the evening. He was gloriously beautiful, taller than any other man at the atchin'tan, his clothes bright and joyous, his brilliant vest housing a broad pair of shoulders, his dark, long-fingered hands sensual as he smoked his pipe, his dark, magnificent eyes never leaving her.

Another sound, like someone on the ladder; she frowned. Who would be disturbing her at this time? Then, with a draught of night air, the door opened and closed, and by the setting moon she could just make out the masculine form crossing the vardo to her, his inky hair silvern by the light, the golden hoops in his ears gleaming.

"Lyddi," he breathed, warmth seeping through her nightshift from his hand on her shoulder. "I know you feel it too, what I feel. The singing of the blood, sharp as my knife, the calling for your body." His voice was urgent, taut, in the darkness, and her own desire flooded her, responding to his nearness. "You have me, heart, body, soul. I can refuse you nothing."

She was surprised by the sudden fierce intensity of his kiss, his lips passionately claiming her, his hand tightening upon her shoulder, silky locks of black hair lightly caressing her cheek. She drew both arms around him, pulling his male heat tighter against her, and he near-lifted her out of the bed, crushing her against his chest, where she could feel his heart half-beating out of his chest.

"I want you," he murmured into the tangled jasmine of her hair, his strong hands holding her, his next kiss white-hot, consuming her entirely, her own hands pulling his shirt off and embracing the smooth flesh of his back, the sinewy muscles of his shoulders.

"I am yours," she said.

* * *

Ardeth poem

He waits for her in the foyer  
one arm stretched across the next chair  
as if she is already sitting beside him.

The day has almost stolen away.  
He is lit by a single window  
that paints his dark hair silver.

Long fingers lay quiescent against wood.  
His face wears an expression  
made haunting.

Lean lines relaxed  
the few white lines at his temple  
catch the fading light.

Soon he will sing her  
a song of the night,  
hold her before dawn.

Soon he will never leave.  
This will be theirs.  
Everything will make sense.

She has crushed the last doubt.  
He does not know the story  
of overheard cruelty.

She won't tell him  
that she knows what women say  
about them.

She lingers on the stairs  
watching him  
so quiet.

She wonders if he sees  
the alternate realities  
that she has dreamed of.

The last light quells and she remains  
a dark haired valkyrie  
lingering over the only hero

she has ever  
loved.

* * *

Ardeth in Beauty &amp; the Beast

She forced herself to take hold of the huge iron ring affixed to the door. It was cold and heavy. Grasping it firmly, she knocked three times and stepped back.

Almost immediately the giant oak doors opened. She flinched, expecting guards. Then she remembered her father's words and his warnings about "invisible servants". It had seemed so unreal to her in his story, but the truth was revealed when she stepped inside and found no one.

"Hello?" she called timidly. Her own voice echoed back to her, lonely. She walked in further, and even in her fright she marveled at the exquisitely decorated castle. Everything was sumptuously appointed, from the least drawing-room to the loftiest grand hall. Her fear was replaced by wonder, especially when she stepped into the garden, luch and beautiful, with immaculately trimmed hedges forming a natural wall to enclose it.

Tired from her journey, she laid down in the warm grass, enjoying the pleasant smell of lilacs. In the afternoon sun she soon became drowsy and fell asleep to the drone of bees.

She awakened with a start. Where was she? Where was her drab little room? She looked down at the gown she wore in surprise. It was old-fashioned, to be sure, but resplendent with embroidery and stiff with brocade. Her hands searched out the unfamiliar weight upon her neck; it was a cunningly wrought necklace of enormous emeralds. Nearby sat a gold jewelry chest, opened to reveal great quantities of pearls and thick-set clusters of sapphires. The room itself was spacious, warmed by an immense fire inside a marble fireplace.

The moment her bejeweled slippers touched the thick rug the door opened. Though she had been warned by her father she still clapped her hands over her mouth in fright.

He was tall, powerful, monstrous in his ebony fur and unkempt appearance. He bared white fangs at her, scowling, and she retreated farther onto the bed. Muscles rippled as he leapt across the room. "So I frighten you," he said fiercely in a deep, resonant voice. "But your father was right. You are a beauty. You will stay here with me forever."

She did not want to cry, but her tears would not hide. "He was right---you are a beast!"

With a savage roar he threw a footstool against the wall, breaking it into kindling. "You will not be allowed out of this room unless you do as I say," he spat, his chest heaving. Calming himself with difficulty, he added. "Once you have regained your senses you will be allowed free rein within the castle. Except you must never leave. You will dine with me every night. Do not be late, or you will face my wrath."

"I will not dine with you---ever!" she said in high fright.

For a moment he stood still. Only his eyes were alive, blazing with fury. Then he moved so quicklyl that before she could react he was astride her, tearing off her clothes, his wicked talons upon her bare skin. Pinned beneath the solid muscle of his body it was all she could do to not scream. His hot lips found her neck, insistent, demanding, the silken fur of his now-bare chest against her, the coolness of his fangs giving her chills. One hand found her breast, long fingers closing around it, causing her to gasp aloud. Her eyes met his, and the flame of anger changed to the flame of desire. She felt it too, suddenly, and impulsively brought her lips to his. With a growing shock she felt him transform in her arms, his silken fur receding, his warm flesh against her own. His long ebon hair brushed against her cheek. He was as incredulous as her. "Beauty," he said softly. "You have freed me."

She pulled him tighter against her, savoring his exquisite handsomeness. "Now you must have me," she whispered, "to bring us together and make us one." His kiss sealed her to him.


End file.
